


Meet & Greet

by ceria



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: First Meetings, Halloween parties, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 11:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4874734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceria/pseuds/ceria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson has been chasing Hawkeye for months. Nick might have found him first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meet & Greet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twangcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twangcat/gifts).



**Tuesday, 28 October**

 

_"Coulson, I need you to come in."_

Phil sighed, mostly internally because Sitwell was next to him and even if he acted like he wasn't paying attention, he really was. Nick never called him in early unless something horrible happened. And as much as Phil hated the cold (his mother always told him it was his own fault he didn't like the cold – he shouldn't have been pretending to be Steve Rogers, and burying himself in the snow really didn't keep him warm. Though it kept him out of school an additional four days that year.)

"The mission is almost over, boss. Sitwell can carry the sit-rep and I can finish up here, it's only three more days." Might as well try and get some additional information to figure out how horrible it was going to be. Fury's level of snark was usually a good indicator.

_"Did I ask for the wine? I asked for the cheese. Back to HQ, today, Agent."_ Fury hung up the phone. That sounded like oh-god-we're-all-going-down-in-flames horrible. Crap.

"It pays to be his favorite," Jasper teased and Phil finally groaned, forehead hitting the comm desk. Twice. Really hard. "You break it, you buy it!"

"Shut up or I won't speed things up at the other end to get you back by Friday," Phil said.

Rolling his eyes, Jasper only laughed, "It's worth missing the bash knowing Fury will make you go. Besides, we're SHIELD, the whole thing will be recorded."

"He can't _make_ me go," Phil snarled. That had been his answer last year (Crossbones) and two years before (Red Skull) that. At least twice, Phil had cashed in some I.O.U.'s to keep away from the damn party. He still had Alexandria on the backburner, maybe he'd use that one this year.

Jasper only laughed.

 

**Wednesday, 29 October**

"I'm sorry," Phil said, flabbergasted for lack of a better word. So much for his rumored composure – at least no one was here to witness this. "Did you just say you lined me up a _date_? What the hell, Nick?"

"You heard me just fine, Phil. Yes, you're going on Friday and yes, you have a date. Do you have a costume yet?"

"I wasn't going to be in town, so no, no costume. Remember the whole, 'I need you to track down Hawkeye, Phil. He'll be the best asset we bring in.'?" He folded his arms and sat on the corner of Nick's desk. "Remember that, boss? I haven't been Stateside for months now. Of course I don't have a damn costume picked out for our Annual Enemy Ball."

"Don't call it that," Nick said.

"Don't make me go and I'll tell you who started that nickname."

"Agent Richards started it, and I fired him three months ago."

"Agent Richards did not start it and Hill fired him four months ago, not you."

"Phil."

"Nicholas."

"Amsterdam," Nick said and Phil blinked in surprise at him.

"Really?"

"Really."

"This is the last time you use that over my head, Nick."

"I saved your life twice in Amsterdam."

"And you used it thirteen months ago in Minsk, now you're using the second life. It's done after this," Phil said. "Who's my damn date?"

"Oh, it's going to be a surprise. He's meeting you at the hall."

Phil wanted to bang his head against the wall, but Fury wasn't Sitwell and even though they'd been friends for a long time, Phil had learned to not express his emotions if he didn't need to. They never swayed Nick.

He stood to leave, already running through a mental list of Cap's enemies and how quickly he could get a costume together for the damn Halloween party.

"It's already taken care of," Nick said as Phil reached for the door handle.

"Excuse me?"

"The costume, it's done. You're free to try and get Sitwell home in time."

Phil didn't say thank you. Nick didn't do it as a favor, just as a way of making it clear he knew he'd win anyway. He was still a ruthless bastard and Phil had no idea what he'd do if Fury ever flipped to the dark side.

Well, he knew one thing. He wouldn't follow. Even though he was pretty sure Nick would end up ruling the world.

 

**Friday, 31 October**

He dressed as the Baron, the monocle really the only giveaway, and it wasn't bad. Nick had had the suit tailored; which meant the waist coat fit a little tighter than Phil normally wore – he liked his clothes loose – and the jacket ended at his waist, showing off, well, he assumed the parts that Nick thought important for his date tonight.

"Forget dating,'' Nick had always told him, 'just go out and have some fun and get laid. You're too… you, Phil.'

Jasper was en route, but wouldn't be stateside for another three hours, then another hour until he could get to the party. Phil intended to be home by that point. He arrived downstairs thirty seconds before the limo arrived. The driver, Agent Battery (such an unfortunate name but at least Eddie had a good sense of humor about it. Nick had only suggested _once_ that Phil should plug that battery in. He didn't make that mistake again.), opened the door for Phil. Nick was already inside, dressed, as always, in full pirate regalia. The woman sitting next to him was not someone Phil knew. Strange. Nick never brought civilian dates. And the way she sat, folded up and curled against Nick's left arm, didn't imply military.

No one else was in the back of the limo.

She looked tiny next to him, dressed head to toe in black, with a tiny black pill hat on top of her dark head and black lace covering her face and neck. Her bright blood-red lips curved up in a smile however. Phil was pretty sure it matched the red soles of her heels, the only two spots of color on her. 

"Phil, this is Natalie. Natalie, Phil is my one-good eye and best friend."

"The pleasure is all mine," she said, her accent vaguely southern. "Is my costume appropriate?"

"Dates are meant to dress as the good side tonight," he said. "You could easily be a widow of any of the good men killed in action."

"Hell hath no fury," she teased.

"I'm sure you've noticed there are only three of us in the car," Nick said.

Natalie giggled at that, "My brother is going to meet us at the ball. He likes to make a more… dramatic entrance."

Oh _goody_. He was meeting a drama queen. Who felt that their introduction wouldn't be theatrical enough unless there was an audience. Phil shifted toward the door – the car wasn't moving that fast yet - and Nick cleared his throat. Right. Amsterdam.

 

Nick exited the car first when they arrived, bowing and holding out one hand for Natalie. She took it and almost did a pirouette as she exited. A trained dancer then, maybe even a ballerina by the way she momentarily balanced, letting Nick draw her hand up to kiss her fingers.

Phil waited another four seconds. Agents always gathered around the entrance to be the first to see Nick's costume (two years ago Jack Sparrow had been quite a hit. This year, Phil wasn't sure but he suspected Nick meant to be Captain Morgan) considering it was the only night everyone was allowed to call him a pirate. 

Only the junior agents tried the whole talk-like-a-pirate to him though. Nick could outswagger anyone when it came to piratical lingo. The fact that he hadn't started while in the car meant he was trying to impress his date. Considering she was a dancer… Phil stopped that train right as it left because eh. Been there, done that. They were better friends.

Straight to the bar! Phil wasn't going to kid himself that tonight would be fun; he was picking up the leftovers from Nick's desired date. Nor did she waste time, wow. They were on the dancefloor before Phil could spit out SHIELD's full name. At least Nick was an amazing dancer (don't ask. It's classified.)

The band switched to a waltz, then a tango, then something a little more saucy. And while there were others on the dancefloor, no one paid attention to them, just Nick and Natalie.

At the end of the dance, the music changed again to… Phil knew this song. Too well. He buried his face in his hands as Captain America's theme started playing. A sharp wolf whistle on the dance floor, Natalie of course, drew all eyes to her. 

She watched the staircase. 

The man walking down the steps might as well have been Rogers. Just a little shorter with just a little darker hair. If Phil had any saliva left in his mouth, he'd been drooling. There was a very good replica of Cap's shield on his back, the bottom edge just brushing the top curve of his ass. Phil kinda wanted to bite that.

Which Phil wouldn't have seen if he hadn't crossed the room in half a second just to be at a good angle to catch the guy's backside by the time he got to the bottom step. So much for being subtle. Maybe his date hadn't arrived yet?

Cap's body double, and that wasn't a padded uniform (Jesus, the man was cut), walked straight to Natalie and kissed her hand.

"Coulson!" Nick said, motioning him over.

Phil wished he was the kind of guy who swooned. Just to have those arms around him once before Natalie's brother got to know boring 'ole Phil.

"Coulson, this is Clint." Phil raised an eyebrow at him. Nick & Natalie and Coulson & Clint. Really?

Nick only grinned at him.

"Go, brother mine," Natalie said. "Have fun. Don't eat 'im alive."

Phil wanted to say he would be down with that. He bit his tongue instead.

"Eh, he's more dessert than main course," Clint said, eyes drawing up and down, obviously interested. "What do you say, handsome? I look like dinner to you?"

"Breakfast," Phil said and Clint tilted his head as if to say 'explain.'

"If dinner is foreplay, and you get me for dessert, then I won't be done with you till past breakfast."

Natalie laughed then, pushing Clint toward him. "You're a match. Have at it."

Phil didn't want to dance. Clint couldn't stand still. He bounced around, flitting from one subject to another. They got through the weather, living in New York in the winter, they tried to outmatch each other with who traveled more. Clint even got him to play eye-spy for a few minutes, naming everyone who worked for SHIELD and came dressed as the bad guys. They got into a brief disagreement if one person was Zimo or someone else. 

Clint bet Phil that the guy wasn't dressed as Zimo and if he won, Phil had to dance with him.

Phil won, then danced with Clint anyway. 

Three other agents approached Clint and he danced with each of them, flirting outrageously. He even kissed Bobbi on the cheek until Hunter chased him away. Phil took all of it with good grace, handing Clint a full glass of water each time he returned. It was just a first date and they were meant to entertain each other, and have some fun.

Phil could really get on board with having some fun with this one.

Clint ordered the ribs for dinner, of course, then sucked each bone dry. Phil pretended it didn't faze him, even though if he had stood up, that would have been proven false instantly.

"Can I call you sugar?" Clint asked.

"No."

"Honeybun?"

"Definitely not."

"Sir?"

"I get called that every day at work, it's old."

"Master?"

Phil paused on that one, briefly imagining Clint tied to his bed. It was a nice image.

"Check that yes. What about Daddy?"

Phil just blinked. Clint leaned back in the chair, the uniform nicely outlining his half-hard cock.

"Yes for that one too. Pumpkin?"

"I never understood why so many food terms are used for endearments," Phil admitted.

"You've never ate Natalie's pie then. It's orgasmic."

"I'm going to assume you're actually talking about her baking a pie."

Clint only laughed.

 

Dinner was done and the music started again. Phil groaned, because it was _that_ song. "I'll be back in a minute," he said, just as Maria walked by, taking Phil's hand and dragged him onto the floor.

It was her favorite, damn it. And Jasper wasn't here to suffer through dancing it with her. So Phil was required to do so. The three of them had a rule.

He even did the obligatory dip at the end, pulling her up to kiss her cheek.

"Nick said you didn't allow PDA here," Clint said once Phil returned, Maria all happy and glowing and walking the other way.

"That wasn't PDA, it was a dance."

"Oh, really?" Clint said. Then dragged Phil onto the floor and proceeded to PDA the hell out of him.

"That's not a verb, Clint."

"Shut up, Coulson, or I'll drag you into the nearest bathroom and then technically it won't be a PDA at all."

Phil shut up and danced. Not that he was dancing per se, Clint just used him as a fucking pole. Literally. It was almost embarrassing except that three young agents were leaning against the wall practically drooling at Clint's moves.

 

The end of the dance was the end of Phil's self-control, thank you very much. Clint had a room upstairs and they left very quickly after that.

The rest of the night thankfully didn't pass so quickly.

 

Phil woke alone and really, really sore. Well used. He stretched, pretty sure the room was empty. He'd given Clint his cell phone number, who memorized it and said he'd text or call soon. Phil wanted to hope, but he'd learned better.

At least Nick would shut the hell up about him needing to get laid.

 

**Sunday, 2 November**

_What the hell, Phil? Why is all the footage erased from the Annual Enemy Ball? That's balls, man._

Phil saved that message as Jasper's personal ring tone.

 

**Sunday, 9 November**

Still no word from Clint. Phil wasn't surprised. He pretended he wasn't disappointed.

 

**Monday, 10 November**

"What do you mean, you're pulling me from the Hawkeye mission? What the hell, Nick?"

"I didn't say I was pulling you, I said it was over, Phil." Nick pushed some documents across the table for Phil to sign.

"What's this?"

"I'm forming Strike Team Delta, one handler and two new assets."

Phil would have complained until he caught the assets' names, Hawkeye, and Black Widow. And then the real names toward the bottom, Clint Barton and Natalia Romanova. Only then did he figure out who his date had really been. "Nick, you're a bastard."

"Yep," he gleefully admitted. Phil signed all the paperwork. 

"How?" 

"She found me a few weeks ago, just sat right down and joined me for breakfast at my favorite shop. Said she had had enough of the merry chase you've put them on the last few months. Though it impressed the hell out of them you almost caught them. So we talked business for a while."

"And the date?" Phil asked.

"They wanted to meet you on the down low first, to get a feel for you and to see if you could work with their unique personalities. She said Hawkeye is pretty squirrely when it comes to government agents. I told her we're not like the others. And that you're going to be an excellent part of their team as their handler. I'm pretty sure you passed that one."

Except that Clint – _Hawkeye!_ \- hadn't texted or called or tried to reach Phil all week. Well, Phil was a professional; he could set aside how perfect Clint was in order to work with Hawkeye and Widow. His personal life always came last anyway.

"Got one more form for you too," Nick said, shoving the prior-relationship release form across to Phil. "He said to make sure you got this one first, and last week. But I like my order better."

"I don't know why I'm friends with you," Phil hesitated only long enough to admire Clint's signature before adding his own.

"Because I give you the best presents," Nick said, sitting back in his chair, way too smug. "They're downstairs in the private gym. Go get your boy, Coulson."


End file.
